TreasureIsland2Silver on the Sea
by Jedi Knight Padme
Summary: Elizabeth Hawkins & Thomas Livesey discover the map to Treasure Island, & head off to recover the horde of silver left for grabs! But a certain Angel Silver has her own plans...
1. The Map to Treasure Island

**Ahoy thar, folks! This is a story I've been working on for a while, ever since I had to do Treasure Island for a novel study and got a brilliant flash of inspiration. Pretty please read and review! Constructive criticism and ideas for future chapters welcome!**

17-year old Elizabeth Hawkins flew down the street, her skirts, hitched up to allow her to run, drawing appalled looks from the many women who were out to do the day's shopping. Ignoring the dirty looks thrown at her, Elizabeth charged down the road at her hazardous speed. She eventually skidded to a stop at the end of the street, where a house, larger than its neighbours, stood. Hanging from a piece of iron jutting out from the wood of the porch roof, a sign swinging in the breeze read, "Livesey's Medical Practice." Stumbling onto the veranda, Elizabeth leaned against the railing, gasping for breath as she raised the bronze lion-head doorknocker and let it fall. An instant later the door opened, and a young man, smartly dressed, was looking out at Elizabeth.

"Elizabeth!" he cried, "Just _what_ are you doing here, out of breath and in the state you're in?"

Elizabeth, having staggered upright, ignored his exclamation. "Thomas, I've _got_ to show you something, at the Inn, the trunk, it's in the room, come _on _Thomas!" Overcome with excitement, she seized his hand and tried to pull him outside.

The young man, Thomas, the Livesey of the medical practice advertised on the sign, frowned at her, extricating his hand from her grip. "Hold on, Elizabeth," he said, "You're babbling. What are you talking about?"

Elizabeth waved her hand in the air, agitated. "Never _mind_ that, Thomas!" she cried, "Just come _on!_" She snatched his hand again and began pulling him down the street. Knowing that it was hopeless, Thomas let her drag him down the road, trying to keep up with her as best as he could, his hand firmly held by hers.

Eventually they arrived at the Admiral Benbow Inn. Famed for its drinks and beds, the Inn had was the best, and, indeed, only, inn around. Nearly every night, summer or winter, rain or shine, the Admiral Benbow Inn was filled with people, from locals who just wanted a place where they could spend evenings drinking and listening to tales, to strange sailors who came from places all around the world, and who spent the nights there telling fascinating stories about the far ends of the world, where fruits grew like huge jewels amid emerald-colored leaves and the people wore nothing but loincloths.

As Thomas and Elizabeth burst into the inn, they found this night just like any other. Though the usual customers were just drifting in, there were enough to cause many heads to turn and tongues to cluck at the sight of the pair, both of them out of breath and with flushed cheeks and clutching each other's hands. Thomas, who was instantly aware of this, dropped Elizabeth's hand as though it was a hot coal, but Elizabeth didn't notice.

Raising her voice to be heard over the buzz of chatter, she called out to the hired woman, "Anne, I'll be upstairs if you need me!" Anne, a plump cheerful woman who sat behind the counter collecting the money and gossiping with the customers, nodded and trilled out an, "All right, dearie! And I'll be right here if you need me!" before resuming her conversation.

Seizing Thomas's hand again, Elizabeth plunged on up the stairs that led to the second and third floors. The second level was where overnight customers slept, and the third floor belonged to Elizabeth. As they arrived at the landing, Elizabeth picked up and lit a lantern that sat on a small stool in a corner of the hallway, pushed it into Thomas's hands, and led the way down the corridor. At the very end, she opened a door and went inside. Thomas, carrying the lamp, followed her, and instantly started sneezing.

As he pulled out a handkerchief, he saw that the room he was in was small, with a tiny window, open right now, which looked out to the courtyard of the inn, completely empty except for what seemed to be a very battered and old trunk, and, he also noted, it was very, very dusty. Sneezing again, he went in after Elizabeth. She was standing next to the trunk, her eyes sparkling with excitement in the light of the lamp. He looked down at the worn old trunk.

"_This_ is what you dragged me through town without my hat for?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Some battered old trunk?"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Not _any_ old trunk," she told him. "Look here. Then you'll see what I mean." Bending down, she ripped off a strip of cloth from the bottom of her skirt. Using the strip, she rubbed the lid of the trunk vigorously, stirring up the dust and causing the motes to dance in the rays of the golden sun.

"_Look_," Elizabeth told Thomas, and stepped back to reveal to Thomas the cause of her earlier excitement. Lifting the lamp so as to gaze more clearly upon the reason that the bottoms of his pants were wet, his expectant eyes fell upon…not, as he had half-thought, some great secret formula or a riddle to be solved that, in the end, would lead to fame and fortune, but upon two letters seeming to have been burnt into the old wood many, many years ago: B.B.

Thomas raised his eyes from the black letters to Elizabeth, and back again. "This," he said, "_This_ is what you dragged me away from a patient of mine for?"

Elizabeth nodded, her eyes shining. "Don't you know what it is?" she asked, and then answered herself before Thomas could open his mouth, "It's Billy Bones's chest!"

"What?" For an instant Thomas didn't know what she was talking about, and then suddenly he understood, and he stared at her, open-mouthed. "Billy Bones?" he said slowly. "Do you really think so, Elizabeth?"

"I don't _think_ so," she said, "I _know_ so! Papa never did say what had happened to the captain's chest. I suppose he had just left it here after the issue with the map and all."

"Wait a moment," said Thomas, frowning thoughtfully. "How did you find this old trunk, anyway?"

The light in Elizabeth's eyes dimmed. "Oh," she said, looking down at her feet. "Well, this room has been closed up nearly forever – at least since Papa died. Mama had cleaned up, of course, before she had passed away too, but the other day it came into my head that the room was probably very dusty, so I decided that I'd open it up, let in a bit of fresh air, and clean it up. That's how I found the chest here."

There was an awkward silence. Thomas, having grown up with Elizabeth so that he looked at her almost as a sister, knew how close she had been to her father, and how even now, five years after his death, it still hurt her to talk about him in detail. Eventually he broke the silence.

"I'm sorry," he said gently. She looked up, tried to smile, failed miserably, and then blinked hard to keep the tears prickling behind her eyelids from falling. Then she shook her head hard, as though to clear her mind of unwelcome thoughts, and straightened up.

"Shall we open the trunk?" she asked, glancing down at the old wooden chest and its heavy bronze lock. Thomas looked puzzled. "How?" he asked. "We haven't got the keys."

Having gotten over her sad spell, Elizabeth smiled, put a hand to her head, and pulled it out holding a pin. "This," she told Thomas, "Is just as good as any key, if not better."

He looked at the object held between her fingers incredulously. "Your hairpin?"

Elizabeth grinned. "You don't believe me? Then observe." With a flourish, she bent down again, stuck the pin into the keyhole. Twisting the pin, she fiddled around with it until both she and Thomas heard a faint _click_. Elizabeth looked up, triumphant. "See?" she said. "I _told_ you so."

"Just open it, will you?" Thomas said, his voice edged with irritability and exasperation.

Elizabeth smiled smugly before turning back to the lock. Taking out her pin, she stuck it back in her hair, then gently tried to lift the lid. Creaking loudly in protest, the rusted hinges refused to give, and Elizabeth's smile faded into a frown. "Thomas, get over here," she ordered. "We need to use some force on this thing." Thomas set the lamp down on the floor behind him and went to crouch next to Elizabeth. "Put your hands right here," she told him, and, taking his hands, positioned them where she wanted. Shifting into her own position, she grunted, "Lift on the count of three. One…two…three!" Together, Elizabeth and Thomas pushed against the resisting hinges, and finally, with a squeal of anger, the rusted metal yielded reluctantly. Surprised by the motion of the lid of the trunk falling backwards, Thomas and Elizabeth collapsed onto the ground, falling on top of each other, Thomas under Elizabeth.

Twisting his head around, he spat out the bottom of her skirt. "Get off me!" he exclaimed. Elizabeth, struggling to sit up, grinned at him. "You're a pretty comfortable pillow," she said, "Next time I fall off a ladder, be sure to be under me."

Thomas sat up. "Too bad," he told her, pushing his hair out of his face and shoving her off. "You're too heavy."

Elizabeth stuck her tongue out at him. "Look who's talking! Let's check out what's in the trunk."

Getting up, he grabbed the lantern off the floor. "Wait a moment. The lantern'll help." As he blew off the dust coating the glass cover of the lantern, he heard Elizabeth gasp behind him. Whirling around, he saw her stand stock-still, her body trembling from head to foot. She was staring at the open chest. His eyes immediately turned to the trunk. The sight made his eyes widen. There, inside the wooden confines of the chest, sat piles of gold coins. With the light of the lantern flashing off them, they looked like a collection of miniature suns, each glowing so brightly as though trying to outshine its fellows. But what caught Thomas's eye, besides the sheer amount of wealth glittering before him, was the piece of parchment lying on top of all the gold, each corner weighted down by a small pile of coins. And what held Thomas's stare was the writing that said, in flowing letters,

"The Map to Treasure Island" 


	2. Chapter 2

**This chapter is dedicated to my (so far) one reviewer, _Kerichi_, who also happens to be my absolute favourite fanfiction author! **

**I've updated the genre so that it's Action/Adventure/Romance. Thomas does sort of look at Elizabeth like a sister, more like a close friend, but there will definitely be some change in that…and now you get to meet the perilously beautiful Angel Silver, warrior queen of pirates! (Yeah, pretty clichéd, but couldn't help myself! I love daring heroines and handsome sidekicks!)**

**And your ignorance is excused, though I do suggest that you go and read Treasure Island. Alas, it has no romance (for which I shall try to make up in this story) but it's very good.**

**And now without further ado…the next chapter!**

Angel Silver, Pirate Queen of the Seven Seas and Roguish Ruler of Thieves, to give her full titles, strolled down a sunny cobbled street in Nassau, New Providence, her first mate, Robert Morgan, known as Robin, at her side and her black cat, Shadow, trotting at her heels. At first glance the tall, slender, golden haired, blue-eyed young woman hardly looked to be of the seafaring sort, let alone a warrior pirate queen. Closer inspection, however, would reveal the thin scars all over her long hands and arms, the determined jut of the shapely chin, the flash of temper and power in the sea-blue eyes, the commanding tone in the sweet voice.

"Robin, dear," Angel drawled, glancing up at the screeching gull flapping its way to the docks, "Methinks t'is time we go back to sea. What sayest thou, me hearty?"

Robin Morgan, Angel's first mate, was the very image of the buccaneering rogue that most romantics loved to imagine pirates as, and he thoroughly enjoyed playing the part. Always Angel's closest friend and confidante, as well as her most loyal man aboard ship or on land, Robin alone knew how to deal with Angel in every one of her numerous and ever-changing moods.

The gossiping innkeepers of Nassau were always fond of whispering it around that Robin's devotion to his captain was really a cover of a deeper 'something' that he had for Angel. Though Robin knew that it was common talk, and privately knew that it held more than a little truth, Angel was completely oblivious to this, and would have been royally furious had she ever gotten wind of it. One of the rules she had was to never have any deep feelings for anyone; she believed with all her heart that it made her weak, and, being the only known female pirate besides Anne Bonney and Mary Read, she couldn't afford being weak. It would cost her not only her position as a ruler of pirates, but also her life.

Now Robin grinned broadly at his captain. "Back to sea? Finally! The boys are getting edgy; I was wondering when you'd tell us t' pack up. Shall I call Luke to round them up?"

Angel tossed her honey-gold hair. "Aye. Tell 'im ter get th' crew t' gather at the Spyglass Inn & Pub tonight, at sunset."

Robin swept off his hat and bowed elegantly. "As my Queen commands," he said, grinning, and then turned on his heel to vanish down an alley, his boots clicking on the cobbled side street.

Angel watched his retreating back until the sound of his clicking boots disappeared into the distance.

Elizabeth and Thomas stood and gaped at the trunk, its contents, and the parchment. Then, to break the stillness, and to make sure that his eyes were not deceiving him, Thomas drew in a deep breath and said, "What are we going to _do_ with it?"

Elizabeth tore her gaze away from the horde of gold to look at Thomas with shining eyes. "What do you mean, what are we going to do with it?" she asked. "It's _obvious!_"

"Not to me, it isn't," said Thomas. "Slow down, will you? You keep on jumping ahead without explaining to me, even though you dragged me here in the first place. So calm down and start explaining."

Elizabeth heaved a great sigh of exasperation. "What's so _obvious_," she said, "Is what we're going to do with the gold. Since we have a map, we'll _use_ it! If you haven't forgotten, then you'll remember that when Papa and your father and old Squire Trelawney came back from Treasure Island after the problem with Long John, they had left the cache of silver and weapons on the island without ever having dug them up. Well, we'll use the gold to go find the rest of the treasure!"

Thomas, finally understanding her, stared at her. "Elizabeth Hawkins," he said slowly, "That is the craziest, most insane idea you've ever had. And that's saying something, considering how much trouble you got us in when we were children. Let's do it!"

Elizabeth was so delighted that she practically glowed. "We can use the gold to get to Bristol, where the _Hispaniola_ is moored," she said, her eyes sparkling like stars on a summer night, "And you can find us a captain to captain it, and a crew to man it, and you can go as ship's surgeon, and I – I'll be the cabin boy!"

"Wonderful! Though don't you mean cabin _girl_? Oh no…wait a moment," he said suddenly, a thought coming to him. "Sailors are a superstitious lot, and if I'm not mistaken, they believe a woman onboard brings bad luck."

Elizabeth's face fell, but lit up again swiftly. "Oh, but I won't go on as a woman – I'll dress as a lad!"

"What?" Thomas looked shocked. "Elizabeth, you can't!"

"Any why not?" she asked, her eyes flashing. Thomas floundered for an answer.

"Because…because…because it just isn't _right_! And it's not natural, either."

Elizabeth's eyes flashed again. "How do you know?" she demanded.

"It just isn't been _done_, Elizabeth!"

"So? _I_ will do it." Thomas searched for something to deter her.

"But…how will you conceal yourself? You're a girl, after all, and, well, you _do_ have…" he pointed to her chest and blushed.

Elizabeth folded her arms. "Easy. I have cloth bandages, and I'll just use them to bind them."

"But what about your _hair_?" He eyed Elizabeth's long, thick dark tresses.

She lifted a curl and fingered it. "I'll cut it."

"What!" Thomas was flabbergasted. "But you spent _years_ growing it, and it's your pride and joy!"

She tossed her head, the hair in question tumbling around her. "If I want to come on this trip, then I'll have to make sacrifices. Cutting my hair is one of them. And…" she looked at Thomas, "_You_ will cut it."

"What!" Thomas squawked again. Elizabeth's lips twitched. "You seem to be repeating the word _what_ an awful lot. You're starting to sound like a parrot."

Thomas shook his head in despair. "Coming up with an idea to go on a treasure hunt is one thing, but disguising yourself as a boy is quite another. Elizabeth, you've got to draw the line somewhere."

"Well then, that line is extremely far off," she said cheerfully, "And I've got a long ways to go before reaching it. And since you know that trying to deter me is absolutely useless, why don't you just give up and decide how to get our ship and crew and captain?"

Thomas threw up his hands in defeat. "All right, I give up. Trying to deter you is absolutely useless. Let's decide how to get our ship and crew and captain."

Elizabeth grinned. "I knew you'd see it my way," she said, clapping him on the shoulder before heading for the door. "Let's go downstairs and lay out our plans."

**P.S. I've decided to make Elizabeth a year younger, so she's actually sixteen now…**


	3. Chapter 3

**Here's chapter 3, pretty short, but I'm working on chapter 4. **

**Your advice is very much appreciated, Kerichi! But the problem between the two parts was that I forget to add the dotted line that separates them. I've gone back and edited it, so it should make more sense now. **

**Actually, Angel doesn't fall for Thomas at all – it'll just take her a while to realize that Robin's there for more than being her loyal first mate ;) **

**And before I release you to read this next chapter, I'd like to give you a little nudge towards something new I posted today…well, it's not really new, seeing as how I wrote it last year, but yeah, just thought that if you've got time, you might wanna read it…it's called 'The Lily Maid's Lament'…**

Angel Silver paused at the door of the Spyglass Inn & Pub with her hand on the doorknob, checking absently for her black cat, but the feline was nowhere in sight. Angel wasn't worried. Her cat often disappeared for varying lengths of time, returning unexpectedly, leaping onto his mistress's shoulder like a living shadow.

Passing a hand through her hair, Angel breathed the fresh sea air deeply and then twisted the doorknob and entered the pub.

A blast of hot air, heavily scented with alcohol, and loud music and rowdy laughter greeted Angel as she stepped into the large room. Pirates big and small, smartly dressed and scruffily, crowded around the tables that were scattered around the room. Waitresses in flowing skirts and tight corsets threaded through the maze of people, carrying trays of food and drink with one hand and warding off leering pirates with the other. A large, buxom woman in a multicoloured gypsy dress was perched on a stool behind the counter, collecting coins and counting them before depositing them into a small bag fashioned out of coarse brown fabric while a young girl poured out ale and rum and beer into jugs and glasses and handed them out to the waitresses who stood waiting for their trays to be filled, chatting and laughing with the men who leaned in their chairs sipping from large mugs.

Casting a sweeping glance across the room, Angel found no trouble in finding her crew. They were the loudest, most boisterous, and most troublesome group in the room. At the moment, they occupied several large tables in the middle of the room, and, as always, were up to no good.

Robin Morgan and one of his mates, Will Knight, had lured a waitress to their table, and now they held her captive, looking delighted as she struggled to escape from their iron grips, merely tightening their arms around her waist and grinning at her. With a roar of laughter, the rest of Angel's crew swooped down on her unguarded tray, laden with several bottles of expensive wines, and carried it off to quaff it down. Dropping a kiss on her cheek and winking impudently, Robin and Will released her and turned to join their mates in their drinking fest, only to see Angel elbowing her way through the crowd.

Catching sight of her, Robin waved her over and pushed a chair towards her. Swiping a glass of wine from one of her men, she dropped into her chair and propped her boots up on the table.

Nodding a greeting to her crew, she sipped the wine delicately and then put the glass down carefully.

"Good wine," she commented, dabbing at her lips with a crisp white napkin. "Very light, but sweet and fruity."

Robin sniffed at the open mouth of the bottle. "Aye," he said, his nose twitching, "T'is good stuff, sure enough". He tipped his head back to let a thin stream of the stuff trickle into his open mouth.

Angel shrugged and snapped her fingers for the nearest waitress, who came forward reluctantly and kept a wary eye on the men.

"Rum," Angel ordered, "And mind it's not that bilgewater yeh usually serve. I want somethin' decent enough ter drink wi'out spitting it back up." She dismissed the waitress with a wave of her hand, and the woman fled to obey her orders, relieved to escape the men's suggestive leers and comments.

Billy, Angel's burly helmsman, belched loudly before speaking. "Luke 'ere tells us we're ter set sail soon, Cap'n. Is th' bloody hound speakin' th' truth or lyin' agin?"

Angel leaned back in her chair. "He speaks truth, mate. I've been talkin' wi' folks, pickin' up on some news, an' I've been hearin' tha' Spain an' England are tryin' ter make an alliance through marriage. Costly gifts 'ave been exchanged, bu' they say tha' an entire shipload o' gold an' jewels an' precious silks an' spices are bein' sent ter England ter th' princess. Wot say we pay'em a surprise visit?" She grinned wickedly. "All those in favour o' headin' ter Spain an' gold, cry aye. All those in favour o' wastin' our time floatin' around 'ere in th' Caribbean, cry nay and git their fat arses out o' here."

The decision was unanimous. Their eyes shining with greed and lust, the entire crew cried out, "Aye!"

Sipping from her rum, Angel smiled, her blue eyes gleaming. "Spain and gold it is, me hearties. Spain and gold."


	4. Chapter 4

**Ahoy thar, me hearties! I'm back, with a new chapter fer ye t' review! Read, enjoy, and REVIEW!**

Strolling through the bustling crowds of Bristol with Thomas at her side, Elizabeth felt acutely self-conscious in her new guise. Two nights ago they had arrived in Bristol, where Thomas bought several pairs of old boy's clothes from a booth in the market, and where Elizabeth had subsequently shorn her locks, taking the final step to casting off her identity as Elizabeth Hawkins, daughter of a respectable innkeeper, and adopting instead the name and personality of Jim Hawkins, a street urchin rescued by the good Doctor Livesey so as to employ him as cabin boy on the _Hispaniola_, which was setting sail on a voyage to the tropics, reason unknown.

Thomas cast a sideways look at Elizabeth – not the first since they'd left the inn they'd been staying at to meet the crew Thomas had hired to sail the _Hispaniola._ With her hair cut, Elizabeth looked years younger, and though she did look a mite too feminine if you looked closely, the dirt smudged on her face and the old breeches and loose patched shirt covered most of it up. All in all, common enough to be presented to the ship's crew without them getting suspicious, and then they could head off to Treasure Island.

He grinned as he saw Elizabeth tugging nervously at the curl that hung over her forehead. He lay a hand on her shoulder.

"Relax," he said, eyes twinkling. "No one here knows who you really are. But if you keep glancing around like that, people will think you've something to hide!"

Elizabeth smiled ruefully. "Very easy for _you_ to say, Thomas." Then she cleared her throat, trying to make her voice deeper, and continued, "It's just that I feel so very odd in breeches – though I must admit, they're quite liberating from heavy skirts. And not wearing a bonnet, and not having my hair. My hair, that's the strangest thing. I'm so used to having a long braid hanging down my back, or having it bundled up, but still _there_, and now – now it feels like a part of me is missing. Oh well – sacrifices have to be made, I suppose. And it's too late now for me to change my mind."

Thomas grinned at her. "And may I remind you, milady, that this was _your_ idea?"

She pretended to be upset. "Stop teasing, you horrid boy!" Then she gave a small cry and pointed. "Oh, is that it? The docks?"

Following the direction of her finger, Thomas looked and nodded. The docks of Bristol sprawled along the beach, the many ships with their tall sails looking for all the world like huge brown birds with white wings raised aloft, and the men that scurried back and forth, carrying cargo on their backs, looked like a colony of busy ants.

"Aye," said Thomas, "That's the harbour."

Elizabeth stared for a moment, then asked, "Where's the _Hispaniola_?"

Thomas jerked his chin in the direction of the harbour. "She's moored there, never you worry."

Suddenly Elizabeth gave a great whoop and broke into a run. "Last one there's a rotten fish!" she yelled, and bounded down to the docks.

Thomas started with surprise, then, caught up in the excitement, he sprinted after her, clutching his hat in his hand.

* * *

Elizabeth was waiting for him next to a booth selling fish, her face nearly split in half by her impish grin. "Rotten fish!" she said, watching him bend over, gasping for breath. "_Old_ rotten fish!"

"Hey there!" Thomas said indignantly, "I am not old!"

"Are too!" Elizabeth insisted, then began to prance around him in circles. "Old rotten fish, old rotten fish!"

She stopped for a moment and smiled. "This is fun! No having to be a mature young lady, being scolded all the time for unlady-like behaviour. I _like_ being a naughty street urchin!" She resumed her jig and chant. "Old rotten fish, old rotten fish, old rotten fi – ow!"

A hand had descended and seized hold of her ear, causing her to squint with pain. "Now then, what's this?" A deep voice boomed from behind her, and she turned as much as she was able to see a tall, well-built man standing behind her, keeping a good grip on her ear.

"Doctor Thomas Livesey, eh? And who's this little ragamuffin?"

Thomas's eyes lit up. "Captain Smollet!" He hurried up to the man, clasping his hand. "Smashing to see you, Jonathan! And I advise you to let go of this lad, lest you wrench his ear from his head, and that would be a pity, seeing as how he's our cabin boy."

The big man, Captain Jonathan Smollet, raised an eyebrow. "Cabin boy, eh? Well, I suppose he'll need his ears to hear orders." He released Elizabeth's ear, and she leapt away from him, rubbing her ear and scowling. "What's your name, boy?"

Puzzled, Elizabeth looked around to see whom the Captain was addressing, then flushed with embarrassment when she realized he was talking to her. "Er, Jim Hawkins, sir," she stammered, hoping desperately that she'd pitched her voice low enough and that it wouldn't give her away.

Eyeing her suspiciously, the Captain asked, "Hawkins?" He glanced at Thomas, who darted a quick look around, then leaned in to say softly, "This is no lad, Jonathan. This is Elizabeth Hawkins, Jim's daughter."

Captain Smollet's eyebrows shot up. "Daughter?"

Thomas nodded. "Aye. She's the one who came up with this crazy idea to go treasure hunting, and it's her gold that's paying for the trip. She wanted to come along, but we knew that sailors don't take well to females aboard, so she decided to dress as a boy – our cabin boy."

Jonathan Smollet cast Elizabeth an amused look. "Clever," he commented. "But won't there be…complications…especially in the matters of…" his voice trailed off, but the unsaid words were clear.

Elizabeth flushed bright red. So did Thomas. "I've got everything under control," she muttered.

Captain Smollet nodded curtly. "Good. Make sure you are extremely cautious. Not much on a ship can be kept secret for very long, you know. And something of this magnitude…be very, very careful. Though the crew is made of good men, life at sea is difficult, and for a time as long as this one's going to take…let's just say that men are men, and if they discover a woman on board…well, you'll know why women aren't usually allowed on ships." Captain Smollet looked impassive, but Thomas looked mortified, as did Elizabeth, who was also starting to feel rather doubtful about the genius of her plan.

Smollet broke the uncomfortable silence by saying gruffly, "Ye'd best come with me now, to meet the crew. They're taking the last of the cargo aboard, so we'll be ready to sail by tonight, at high tide. Come along, now."

He turned around abruptly and strode down the path to one of the many piers jutting out into the languid waters. A medium-sized ship, a schooner, bobbed on the waves, straining a little against the lines lashing her down and keeping her anchored to the wooden spit where men scurried around bearing heavy crates of supplies to fill the schooner's hold.

Long and sleek, masts rearing up proudly in an effort to reach the sky, a lovely bare-chested mermaid figurehead gazing down at them coyly through her eyelashes, the _Hispaniola_ was indeed a beautiful ship, and captured both Thomas and Elizabeth's hearts. Elizabeth's eyes shone and her chest swelled with pride at being the one to own this magnificent vessel – well, co-owned it with Thomas.

Captain Smollet cracked a rare smile at the looks of amazement on his friends' faces. "She's a lovely one, isn't she?" he asked, and smiled again as Elizabeth and Thomas nodded their heads in vigorous agreement. "She's even better inside," Smollet told them, "Let's go aboard."

Following Thomas and Captain Smollet up the gangplank, Elizabeth's eyes widened in open awe at the wonders the ship – _her_ ship – contained. Though Captain Smollet gave them only a brief tour, the glimpses that Elizabeth caught of the deep shadows of the hold and the far-off crow's nest made her vow silently to spend a good deal of time exploring the ship. She shivered with delicious excitement.

Captain Smollet led them back up to the main deck, where they leaned against the railings and enjoyed the view.

"Now then," Smollet was saying, "You'll see there are 6 cabins astern – as they were when she was first overhauled – for us to share, that is myself, the first mate, quartermaster, Doctor Thomas here, you, lad, " he nodded at Elizabeth, "and the cook. We're joined to the galley and forecastle, in a way, by that sparred passage there, " he pointed it out, "and so we've got quick access to the galley for midnight snacks, and you, m'lad, " he nodded again to Elizabeth, "will have your privacy. And since I'm sure you're not going to enjoy going down belowdecks to relieve yourself, I took the liberty of getting you a chamber pot, with a lid to keep it closed for when we hit rough patches."

Elizabeth was immensely relieved. "Thank you very much, sir," she said, and he acknowledged her with a half-smile.

"I've got to go check on some last minute things," the captain continued, "So you've time to rummage around your cabin, put your stuff where you wish, get comfortable before we set sail in an hour's time. The tide comes in then. Off you go now!"

At his dismissal, Elizabeth ran to the cabin that was to be hers, and waited for Thomas to catch up with her before opening the door and entering the room. It was small but quaint, the wooden planks gleaming with new polish. On one side of the room a hammock swung gently, in sync with the ship's rolling movements. The lower half of one wall was dotted with brass knobs, and Elizabeth, curious, ran over and knelt on the floor, then pulled at one of the knobs. She nearly fell over backward in surprise when it slid toward her, revealing itself to be a handle for a drawer that was apparently built into the wall. She beamed with delight.

"Oh, isn't it just _lovely_?" she asked Thomas, who was standing behind her, looking on with interest.

"Indeed it is," he agreed, "Ingenious. Here, let's have a look at my cabin, then you can come back and put away your things."

Elizabeth consented, and they went off to Thomas's cabin, located next to hers. His was a good deal fancier, and bigger too, with a real bed built into the floor and a chest of drawers and a small rug graced the smooth wooden floor.

"I say!" Elizabeth cried indignantly, "How come _you_ get a bed, and I don't?"

Thomas grinned and tweaked her nose cheekily. "Because, my friend, you are a mere cabin boy, and I am the ship's doctor. Now go and pack while I revel in this luxury." He shoved the pouting cabin boy playfully out the door and threw himself on the bed, sighing happily. Perhaps this journey was going to be better than he'd thought.


	5. Calm Before the Storm

Angel Silver's ship, _The Angel of Death_, was a fearsome sight to behold. Bigger than normal pirate ships – tiny sloops or two-masted brigs – and smaller than a warship, _The Angel of Death_ had the advantage of speed, weaponry, and the ultimate advantage – a figurehead that struck fear into the most courageous men's hearts and paralysed them into inaction, causing them to become easy targets for the frightful ship, Captain, and Crew.

This mere carving – ah! Mere carving, say I? Nay, no mere carving, but a dreadful promise of doom and destruction, and, yes, even death, to those who went too far and turned courage into foolishness. This figurehead, this promise of death, can be described as such, yet even the words I pen here shall not be able to fill your heart with the fear and dread felt by those who witnessed it with their own two eyes.

An angel leaned out underneath the bowsprit of the ship, its wooden wings spread out and melting into the sides of the ship. At first glance it looked like the churchly image of a serene messenger of God, but closer inspection revealed the carved flames dancing eternally in the angel's eyes as it brought it hands forward in not a gesture of prayer, but to hold out a wooden skull, its jaws open wide in a silent scream and its eye sockets open wide in horror as it looked out to the sea, warning and promising.

Now you may think that Angel was a vicious, ruthless, cold-blooded killer, but let me assure you that it was not so – well, not all the time. In truth, Angel wasn't much more than the next pirate, and though her success rate, compared to others, _was_ extraordinary, her success was largely owed to the above-described figurehead, which did half the work for her by paralysing victims with fear.

Angel didn't pirate around for sport or for killing, she did it to survive. What she filched, she sold for money, and used that money to feed and clothe her crew, to repair her beloved ship, and if anything was left over, to spend on petty indulgences for the men. If she had family, she may have sent money or goods home, but as it were her mother – a black woman – had died during Angel's maiden voyage, and her father, Long John Silver, had passed away soon after. So it was that Angel was the last of the Silvers – but it didn't bother her. She was happy. She had her ship, and she had her crew. Her family. They were men she knew from childhood, surrogate fathers and uncles and brothers. And, though she didn't yet know it, a lover, who loved from near and yet a distance immeasurable.

And now a suffocating calm and heat hung around _The Angel of Death,_ doing nothing to ease the stormy mood of Angel Silver. Prowling the decks like a restless lioness, she lashed out at her men with both her tongue and her whip, the latter held in her hand by a smooth wooden handle, the large emerald embedded inside the wood glinting like a snake's eye as the tail of the whip uncoiled with lightning swiftness to lash against one man's bare back, causing him to gasp with pain as he bent over his oar, a thin red line appearing on his brown back, the drops of blood gleaming in the dull light like smooth rubies. "Pull harder!" Angel roared, cracking the whip in the air. "Harder, ye miserable oafs, ye clownish fools! Harder, or feel this whip on yer back! Pull harder if ye wish to live to see the next dawn!"

Robin Morgan, at her side, lay his hand on her shoulder. "Angel, they can only go so fast in this calm. Even the waves are against them. Calm down, will you?"

Angel whirled on him. "And would ye like to taste the feel of this whip as well?" she spat, baring her teeth. "Calm down, is it? Shut yer mouth before I have ye tied to the mast and flayed within an inch of yer damned life! Curse you, tavern girl's son!" She turned away from him and stormed off into her cabin, leaving Robin standing where he was, lips pressed together tightly.

Slamming the door behind her, she slid into her chair and stared, fuming, at the papers that littered her desk.

They'd left Nassau weeks and weeks ago, near on two months, and had come across a few ships, but they bore no precious burdens of gold and silver and jewels, just petty merchandise that Angel had, to relieve the boredom, taken to a couple ports in France and England – she daren't show herself in Spain – and sold them to merchants. It was part of one of her rather more ingenious plans, which she was quite proud of. And since it provided her a few moments' relief, she allowed herself to think of and gloat over her own brilliance. Oftentimes when they were out searching for ships to plunder, but came across only mediocre merchant ships that carried nothing but spices and fabrics, Angel would have the crew take out their 'civilian' clothes – items stolen off the crew members of past victims – and take down their pirate flag, to rig it with the flags of either England or France, and then boldly sail into a port, announce their wares, sell them to other merchant companies, use the profit to fit them out again for another long stretch of cruising, and then go back to patrolling the seas like the blood-hungry, ravenous sharks they were. The only thing Angel disliked about this plan was that she had to hide belowdecks the whole time they were in the port, or dress up as the daughter of some non-existent governor of an island in the Caribbean to explain her presence. _That_ she did not enjoy, but for the sake of the greater good of her crew, she bore it, although she did occasionally enjoy flirting with good-looking young Navy men and making them stutter and stumble over each other in their efforts to secure the gloved arm of "Adrianna, daughter of the Honourable Governor of Port Royal". And, of course, watching Robin glower at the arrogant Commodore as he escorted her to his cabin for a glass of wine was always enjoyable.

But now, after a venture in France, not a single ship had they come across, and now they had landed smack-dab in the middle of a storm. Well, not a storm yet, Angel acknowledged mentally, but these terrible calms were just as bad, if not worse. She could do nothing to quicken the pace of her men, who strained at the oars, trying to shift the massive bulk of the ship in the heavy waters. She felt guilty, too, knowing that she was being unfair on her crew, who loved her in their own manner, and she winced as she remembered the drops of blood evoked by the stinging caress of her whip. The look on Robin's face when she had cursed him and left him on the deck made her feel guilty too; the tiny glint of hurt in his eyes made her hate the words she'd said. He was her closest friend, loyalist crewmember aboard, and only he could make her feel guilty over such a thing as a few words. She'd have to make it up to him, somehow, without being too obvious. It wouldn't be good for her image if she suddenly broke down and apologized to everyone whose feelings she'd hurt.

Angel scowled. She hated them, these cursed calms before storms. The heat and the stillness got to her, grated on her nerves, made her itch for the action that the storm demanded. She pushed the chair back and got off, pacing the room with the quick, irritable steps of a caged wildcat, her blue eyes gleaming dangerously in the grey light that slid through the window's glass. Then suddenly the cabin lurched, and she was swung off balance. Cursing, Angel grabbed her swinging hammock and straightened herself before striding for the door.

As she emerged onto the deck, she could feel the difference in the air. It was no longer heavy and calm; now it was cold and wind whipped at her face as rain came splattering down. Thank the Lord, she thought as she headed for Robin; the storm was coming, the calm was gone. Let the winds and the rains pit themselves against her! She would prove no match for them. She lifted her head as she strode out to her men, bellowing out orders as she went. "_Ship oars! Reef th' sails! Batten down th' hatches an' nail everythin' down! Prepare fer a storm straight from Hell!_"

* * *

As Dr. Thomas Livesey, ship's surgeon on the _Hispaniola_, doubled over the bulwarks, retching and gagging and his face literally green, he appeared to be in dire need of his own services. Elizabeth Hawkins, now called Jim Hawkins as she assumed the identity of the _Hispaniola_'s cabin boy, had her arm around her friend to support him as his body sagged, weak from the exertion of returning the morning's meal of hardtack and salted fish to the sea from whence the dead fish came.

It had been a week since they'd left Bristol, and so far the winds had been fair and their speed swift. And while Elizabeth had adapted wonderfully to the new living conditions, Dr. Thomas had no such luck. The first day he'd done well as anyone on board, but the next morning, as the ship crested a particularly large rolling wave, he'd become suddenly and violently seasick.

Captain Smollet and the rest of the well-seasoned crew seemed to find this rather amusing, and assured him that he'd be over his seasickness soon and that he'd be better off with it, but Elizabeth, who as cabin boy had to attend to the ship's surgeon, felt rather more sympathetic towards her friend's condition.

Now she slipped her arm around his waist and waited till he settled his arm over her shoulder before slowly hobbling towards his cabin.

"Poor Thomas," she said sympathetically as she kicked open the door of his cabin, "But the Cap'n says you'll be fine in a day or two. Bear up, Thom, you'll be fine as a fiddle and healthy as a horse in no time!"

Thomas groaned. "I don't _feel_ fine _or_ healthy," he moaned. "I just feel sick."

Depositing him on his bed, Elizabeth turned to leave. "Just stay put in bed, and take a nice long nap," she told him, "And don't come back out on deck unless you're doing better, you hear? The deck needs swabbing, and I won't have you interrupting me for the hundredth time."

"Thanks, Elizabeth," Thomas murmured, his voice slightly muffled as he pulled the covers over his head. "You've been a jolly great help."

Elizabeth smiled and shrugged, "All part of the duties of Jim Hawkins, cabin boy," she said, and left the cabin, closing the door behind her.

Hours later, Elizabeth wiped the sweat from her face, panting slightly as she resumed scrubbing the forecastle deck. An oppressing heat had settled over the sea, snaring the _Hispaniola_. The winds had withdrawn and vanished, and now the sails hung limply against the masts. After a while of uselessly heaving at the oars, Captain Smollet ordered all the men to leave off, and now the crew was scattered all over the ship, wandering around restlessly and fixing things up, oiling pulleys and testing ropes.

Thomas, who had begun to feel better, staggered out of his cabin and tottered around the deck, keeping a good hold on the bulwarks.

"Ahoy, matey!" he called out to Elizabeth. "What's with the weather?"

Elizabeth paused to look out over the still waters surrounding them. "Cap'n says it's the calm before a storm."

Thomas squinted in the dull, metallic light that the sun cast through the veil of misty grey clouds. "Doesn't look too bad to me," he said, "In fact, I'd say it's a jolly load better than what we had earlier!"

"Shows just how much you know," a grim voice said from behind him, and Thomas swung around unsteadily to see Captain Smollet, his face stony. "Calmer it is, the worse the storm'll be," he continued. "This' un's sent from Satan himself, it is."

The words were no sooner out of his mouth than a blast of freezing air threw itself at them, making them all jump and lose their balance.

"Speak of the Devil," commented Captain Smollet, as he grabbed hold of several ropes, and then he raised his voice, calling to the crew, who were already gearing themselves for action.

"_All hands on deck! Reef the sails! Secure all lifelines!"_

As the rest of the crew, including Elizabeth, jumped smartly to attention, Thomas Livesey staggered back to his cabin and locked the door.


	6. Storm!

The storm - storm? Hah! The hurricane! - Was one that left even the likes of the experienced Angel Silver and Captain Jonathan Smollet shaking their heads in wonder. The winds ripped through the air and tore everything, whipping men's faces till they were raw, grabbing at anything that was loose and tossing it into the air, buffeted about, till they eventually fell into the sea.

The sea – the sea was a different thing, a different creature, from the playful blue wetness that kept the ships afloat in normal weather. Today the sea was possessed by a wild and vengeful spirit, and the waves reared high like the sea-horses of Poseidon and Neptune, frothing and spitting and tearing at the ships, while sirens keened, their screeching and wailing rising high and carrying over the distance as fish flopped glassy-eyed and floppy-finned onto the ships' decks.

Angel Silver was in her element. She was as wild as the wind and the sea, her eyes alight with some internal fire, looking like some sea goddess or spirit as she clung to the _Angel of Death_'s riggings, the lifeline tied around her waist the only thing keeping her from having the wind pluck her into the air and drop her into the raging waves below. Her golden hair whipped around her face, and her cheeks were blood-red while the rest of her face was deathly pale, and as she hung from the ropes, her eyes filled with wind-induced tears, she laughed long and loud and hard.

Robin Morgan, glancing up at her for a moment while he clung to the mast's base, shook his head at her. There was only one thing that could explain Angel's behaviour – the lass was just plain crazy. But then, that was why he loved her, wasn't it?

* * *

On board the _Hispaniola_, there was nothing to do once the sails were reefed and everything tied down but wait out the storm. Everyone huddled together in a shaking, wet, fearful group, nervously fingering the knots on their lifelines, while some closed their eyes and prayed for God's mercy.

Indeed, only God's mercy saved them, for who or what else could have stopped the vicious waves from tearing the _Hispaniola_ apart into driftwood to float powerless in the mighty ocean, buffeted by the waves and the malicious wind as it screeched with the effort of pulling the masts out from their very roots?

Yes, Elizabeth decided as she grimly clung on for dear life to the largest solid and unmoving object she had found, this storm made her believe in God as no other passionate preacher or minister at church did. But then, she reflected as she dug her heels into the planks to stop herself from sliding across the slanted deck into the depths of the sea, in a storm like this one must believe in something to keep one as grounded as possible, or else one would go insane.

Though Thomas, eyes clenched tight in terror and arms wrapped tightly around the base of the creaking mainmast, did look rather mad with his mouth making the oddest shapes as he gabbled fervent prayers to be snatched up by the winds and tossed into the heavens.

Just then, however, the ship gave a sudden gut-wrenching lurch, and Elizabeth shut her eyes and decided to empty her mind of everything except survival.


End file.
